


F**k Me Like One Of Your French Girls

by Jamz24



Series: Light And Shade - Elu Stories [3]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: 69, But it's been THAT week, Flip-Fucking, Happy though slightly inexpert fucking, Love and tenderness, M/M, Modern Art references for no particular reason, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, SKAM - Freeform, Soixante-Neuf, Synaesthesia, The boys are vers in this, elu - Freeform, enjoyyyyyy!, literally no plot just porn, no angst for a change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18101216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamz24/pseuds/Jamz24
Summary: “You’ve painted us - fucking?”“Yes! You’re the blue swirl in the corner here. And the orange bit is – how you taste when you come in my mouth and you won't allow me to spit.”***Flip-fuck PWP in which Elu enjoy a soixante-neuf and experienced!vers!Eliott shows little one Lucas how to take a dickAnd some modern art references for obvious reasons because it’s been THAT week!Bon Appétit!





	F**k Me Like One Of Your French Girls

**Author's Note:**

> So ... with Disaster Week fast approaching in #SkamFrance I thought I'd slide in some spicy Elu smut to ward off bad times ... enjoy!

**À présent**

Lucas has said it before – although, admittedly, mainly to himself – but blowjobs really are one of the greatest things in life. Not just giving them but receiving them as well; and when you’re both giving _and_ receiving at the same time – _both_ of you – well, it’s absolutely his most favourite, most all-consuming thing that he can think of.

Not that he can think of much else besides what’s going on right now, both of them stretched next to each other on their sides, top-to-tail, bodies arched together in a yin-yang shape and their cocks deep in each other’s mouths. Lucas’s head is pillowed on Eliott’s inner thigh, eyes half shut as he sucks hard as a baby on his boyfriend’s dick, fingers curled around the larger boy’s shaft to keep it in position as they writhe together, bodies slipping and sliding at the slow pace of their long, needy squirming.

“Mmmhhhh,” Lucas groans incoherently through a mouthful of cock. “You taste so fucking _good_ – “

Eliott hums back in assent, busy on his own task, and Lucas can feel the warm breath of his boyfriend coasting over his groin and between his thighs. His own cock is sharpening deliciously and hungrily as his _mec_ holds his hips lightly, drawing him in long and slow only to spit him teasingly back out again, reducing him to a molten mess from the relentless sweet, soft, sucking that he so excels at. Eliott is taller than him so he’s curled round in more of a circle, able to take Lucas down his throat fully from time to time, an act so blindingly intense that Lucas has almost fallen over the brink a few times before Eliott has squeezed him down again with a soft, muffled chuckle.

“Wait, wait, little one, you want to pace yourself for this.”

Being upside-down like this has some advantages, Lucas can play with his boyfriend’s balls easily with his other hand, which Eliott always likes, sliding his finger down the seam to massage his taint and hear the muffled groans and curses coming in response from between his own thighs as Eliott drops his head onto Lucas’s stomach in abandon.

“Fuck, Lu, do that again, again, again – “

Lucas fingers him again, and Eliott’s paler body surges against his in response, one knee half-bent and the muscle of his inner thigh flexing as he gently rocks himself between Lucas’s lips in increasing excitement. Lucas lets out a stream of small groans, partly to let his boyfriend know how much he’s enjoying this, but also because he just can’t _help_ it; he loves the feeling when Eliott fucks his mouth, musky tip barely grazing his tongue, velvety foreskin sliding up and down in his hand, thick pink head as sensitive as a peeled lychee, leaving a sharp taste of excitement on his taste-buds with every glide and thrust.

Eliott’s fingers are wandering between Lucas’s legs too, slick with the spit running down his shaft and pooling around his cleft. They stroke, drowse, tease and dip into him, making him shudder and shake, dizzy with exultant possibility; spreading the hot ache down inside him so that he feels as hard, primed and ready as he’ll ever be.

“Give it to me,” he murmurs, half-choked with sensation, his mouth watering embarrassingly. “Eli, please, I can’t wait …”

There’s a rustle and a pop as Eliott heaves himself up on one elbow and gazes across at him, mouth reddened and wet from his exertions, his hair tousled and eyes sparkling.

“Really – ? Do you want to?”

“Yes,” moans Lucas, bucking his hips impatiently. “I want to.”

***

**Avant**

“Wake up, hedgehog! I’ve got something to show you!”

Lucas struggles up onto his elbows to be met by Eliott’s excited grin, the characteristic smile so wide that his pretty eyes practically disappear under the exultant beam of his happiness.

“Look! What do you think of my new painting?”

Lucas blinks and shakes his head to focus as he stares at the easel propped up at the end of the bed. Eliott stands next to it, indicating theatrically with both hands like a chef serving a signature dish.

“Wow,” he murmurs at length.

It’s not a bad picture, he has to admit, although to be honest he knows nothing about art. It's a whirling square of colours, slashes and splatters that wouldn’t look out of place on a New York gallery wall. Much of the paint has ended up over their bedroom floor that often doubles as a studio for Eliott but Lucas is getting used to that; after all, there’s been worse stuff spilled in here than a few squirts of gouache.

“It’s … it’s … good,” he says, searching for the words. The painting looks strangely familiar, a clashing whirl of different shapes and bright colours. It’s a bit abstract and unrecognisable for Lucas’s taste, but isn’t all painting nowadays?

“You know Kandinsky?” Eliott’s dressed only in a short pair of briefs underneath his smeared painter’s overall that has most of Lucas’s feeble attention wandering southwards. “Kandinsky was one of the earliest abstract artists, he used to paint music and sounds. He was synaesthesic – that means – “

“I know what synaesthesic means,” Lucas shrugs slightly pointedly. “It’s a condition when your brain combines your senses so you perceive them in different ways, like people say they can smell colours and hear shapes - ”

Eliott nods excitedly and gambols around waving his arms. “So Kandinsky used his condition to paint _music_! He painted the sounds of cymbals and the vibrations of the strings on canvas! He was one of the first painters to do this, and when you look at his _Symphony_ pictures, you know exactly how the music sounds!”

Watching him, Lucas marvels anew at the fact that his boyfriend really is a seven-year-old nerd trapped in the body of an eighteen-year-old god, although he’s not sure whether he should pursue _that_ thought at the moment.

“So I want you to guess what I’ve painted here,” Eliott flings himself down on the bed next to Lucas. “Can you see it?”

“Ummm …” Lucas looks at the canvas narrowly; there’s something that could be the outline of a foot, and there’s a thick, orange squirt that takes up most of the top-left, there’s a lot of blue swirls and purple in blobs and smears, and little insistent flicks of red, and – nope, he has no idea what this whole painting is about.

“It’s _us_ fucking!” Eliott bursts out, unable to contain himself. “Well – us in bed together, anyhow.” He gazes at Lucas’s face, suddenly anxious. “Do you – do you like it?”

“You’ve painted us _fucking_?” enquires Lucas, his attention caught. “That’s – _that’s_ what this is?”

“Yes!” Eliott’s eyes are shining with excitement. “You’re the blue swirl in the corner, and the purple here – that’s how you smell when you’re turned on but you’re still sweaty cos you haven’t had time to go in the shower, and these red bits – that’s what it feels like when you finger me, and this orange – well, that’s how you taste when you come in my mouth and you won’t allow me to spit.”

Lucas blinks in amazement; he’s not sure what’s blowing his mind most, the idea that Eliott has visually represented their lovemaking, the fact that he sees Lucas as a blue swirl, or … the fact that his sperm tastes like bright orange, apparently.

“And this big – erm, smudge?” There’s a thick whitish whirl burrowing through the middle of the canvas between the loud howling colours, and for the first time Eliott loses his composure and pinks up a bit.

“Well that’s how I – well, how I imagine it’ll feel when we fuck. I know, _I know_ ,” he says quickly at the look on Lucas’s face. “I know you wanted to go slow on that, but – it’s just how I imagine it, okay?”

“Wow.” All this art-cum-sex talk is starting to go a little above Lucas’s head, and he throws himself back on the bed and puts his arms behind his head, his mind spinning. Every time Eliott mentions fucking, his body goes hot and flushed at the thought, but he’s _scared_ as well; his boyfriend is a lot bigger than him, and he can barely fit him in his mouth, so how they’re ever going to do _that_ is a question that he puts behind everything else that they’re exploring in bed these days.

He can see Eliott’s excitement ebbing away like a slowly-deflating balloon next to him at his reaction; gentle stare searching his face, shading slightly to anxiety. Lucas knows his sensitive artist boyfriend picks up his vibes like a sponge.

“So, when are you going to draw me?” he enquires archly, in a quick bid to lighten the mood.

“ _Hein?_ I draw you all the time!” protests Eliott, but Lucas tosses his head. “No, you draw me as an animal, or a cartoon – or – the taste of orange, apparently. I mean a _proper_ portrait, like – like the ones they have on walls of art galleries.”

“You mean, a reclining nude?” Eliott rolls next to him, slaps at him teasingly and squeezes his bottom. “Like those French girls with all their clothes off that the dirty old Impressionists loved to paint all the time?”

“Yeah, one of those French girls.” Lucas sticks his tongue out. “Draw me like one of your French girls.”

“Wearing what?” Eliott grins back at him, picking up the _Titanic_ reference like a shot.

“Wearing nothing,” supplies Lucas immediately, sits up and throws off his boxer-shorts.

***

**À présent**

“Are you sure?” mutters Eliott, eyes wide and pupils blown. “You really want to?”

Lucas pulls his leg up and plants his heel in the centre of Eliott’s forehead, shoving at him gently with a teasing smile. “I’m so sure. But we’d better move quickly before I change my mind.”

“Yesss! Oh my god! This is the best day ever!”

Lucas rolls his eyes in fond exasperation as Eliott seizes his foot like some kind of celebration trophy, kissing up all and down his calf, licking between his toes and biting gently at his sensitive instep until he flinches in half-ticklish, half-irritated arousal.

“Okay, well are we going to, or – “

His _mec_ apparently isn’t going to let him off though; he licks and nibbles him all over for a while, working him up with tender, barely-there touches, increasing in a slow flood until Lucas is a moaning mass of need; over-sensitised and raw and ready.

“ _Ouais, putain_ , I’m ready,” he groans as his boyfriend finally releases him and he can roll onto his stomach, Eliott’s lips travelling down his back with a trail of feather-soft kisses. Lucas drops his face into the pillow, feeling his boyfriend’s tongue and fingers working their usual magic, making him grind alternately down into the mattress and up against his mouth. He’s wet within minutes, wet and wanting and desperate, his usual fears pushed to the back of his mind; but as Eliott slowly widens and twists his fingers inside him, Lucas flinches and bites down on his lip.

“Let’s do it,” he whispers, turning over onto his back in sudden resolution, letting his legs drop apart. He reaches up to pull Eliott down onto him, but to his surprise his boyfriend crawls forward to straddle him, raised up on his knees with his heavy dick lying across Lucas’s stomach.

 “C’mon,” whispers Eliott, taking Lucas’s fingers and raising them to his mouth. “Lemme do it with you.”

Lucas gazes at him in amazement as Eliott lets his mouth fall open and draws his fingers in, sucking and licking until they’re dripping down to the knuckle. Slowly and keeping eye contact, he brings Lucas’s hand down to stroke between his legs, angling his fingers up inside his cleft.

“Is that good?” whispers Lucas softly, watching Eliott ride his fingers blissfully for a few seconds, enraptured. He loves the way Eliott can change in an instant, from domineering and powerful to sweet, soft and needy, straddled over him with his ass pushed out and grinding down into Lucas’s groin.

“Issss –  really good,” mutters Eliott thickly, reaching down to palm Lucas’s cock in his hand, rolling it in his fingers and squeezing rhythmically under the head until Lucas stiffens involuntarily under his touch.

Eliott grins at his reaction, and leans closer. “Do you – do you want to fuck me first?”

Before Lucas can formulate an answer, Eliott is rearing up on his knees, Lucas’s fingers slipping out of him, and reaching for the lube bottle.

“ _Attend,_ I thought I was the one who –“ begins Lucas, but he hasn’t time to finish the sentence before Eliott’s taking his cock and slicking him up with a few firm, determined motions, and then moves forward to guide Lucas in, bracing his dick with one hand and angling his position until they both feel the catch. Lucas barely has time to register the thought _– this is it – we’re actually going to do it –_

As he sinks back onto his shaft, Eliott raises his chin in a sudden gasp, his head falling back as he surges down to meet the breach, his beautiful neck extending as his back arches out in a graceful S-shape. Below him Lucas stiffens and his heels drum on the mattress, arms flailing mindlessly, grabbing at his boyfriend’s hips and ass. The words in his mouth fly out in a flurry of jumbled sounds as Eliott opens up around him.

“Ufffffff … shitttt …” groans Lucas, the wet hot feeling narrowing his vision and his awareness as all his sensations condense themselves into one urgent desire which barrels straight down into his cock. Mindlessly he starts to move, bucking his hips up into his boyfriend, chasing the sweet sharp sensation as he feels Eliott around every inch of him, soft and warm and wet as his bottom settles flush against Lucas’s pelvis. He lets out a groan and seizes Eliott’s waist in both his hands to manipulate him mindlessly back and forth; this hasn’t been the way he’s envisioned it going down, but it just feels so, so good –

Eliott’s eyes are blurred and hot as he adjusts his position and leans forward, hands on Lucas’s shoulders, cock stiff and dragging on Lucas’s stomach. Lucas can see his _mec_ ’s face change as he arches his back, moving gently up and down for a few passes, his expression soft and strangely withdrawn as if he’s concentrating on something else, or listening to faint music no one else can hear.

“Is that – is it okay?” Lucas manages to gasp out, and Eliott’s dreamy eyes swim back to his, focusing on him with an enchanting smile. He doesn’t speak but he nods slightly, curving his back as he sinks deep down again and his eyelids flutter closed for a moment. Part of Lucas envies the way that his boyfriend can take him so easily; he doesn’t really want to dwell on _why_ this is, though he knows he isn’t Eliott’s first _ever_ guy – but still, the acute need to fuck consumes all thoughts of jealousy, and he’s suddenly drawing his legs up, digging his heels into the mattress and pushing his hips up again and again, chasing the blissful clenching and squeezing as Eliott rocks gently up and down in tune to his thrusts.

“That feel good?” mutters Eliott at one point, and Lucas can do nothing but nod frantically. The wet sticky sounds of sex fill the quiet bedroom, the soft slap of Eliott’s cock on Lucas’s stomach, their breaths mingling harsh and shuddering together like wrestlers, and he’s getting so close so fast that his eyes are starting to glaze over –

“What – where are you going?” he moans as Eliott suddenly kneels up, feeling himself slide helplessly out of the blissful warmth. “Stop! Come back!”

“It’s your turn to be fucked, baby,” grins Eliott teasingly, wriggling backwards and pushing his knees apart. “Before you get too close.”

Lucas throws his head back, his back prickling with sweat at the warm, blunt feeling as Eliott slicks up and lodges his dripping dick against his rim. His own cock is still hot and wet from Eliott and the blood is surging in a slow aching boom between his dick and his prostate; he feels ripe and ready and desperate to be fucked –

“Are you ready, baby?” gasps his boyfriend, quivering against him, waiting for his reassurance. Lucas nods breathlessly without pause to think. “I’m ready – ”

\- and all of a sudden his vision goes dim and his ears pop as if he’s underwater; feeling the shock as Eliott suddenly breaches him, his nerve-endings firing off in all directions like a cluster of fireworks. He lets out an involuntary cry and immediately Eliott stills, half-inside him, reaching for Lucas’s face in concern.

“Are you okay – is it too much, baby?”

Lucas wants to say _Yes_ and _No_ and _Just keep going_ but instead he just reaches for Eliott’s hair and nods faintly. His mouth is filling with saliva and he’s seized by an urgent need to suck for comfort. His boyfriend’s fingers are drowsing across his lips, anticipating him, so he draws his _mec’_ s three fingertips into his mouth, eyes closed, his mind blown by the feeling of Eliott slowly moving inside him.

“Is that better, little one?” murmurs Eliott hoarsely in his ear. “Do you want me to go slower?”

Lucas manages to shake his head, and Eliott drops his face against his shoulder, shuddering with the effort of holding back as Lucas adjusts around him. Then the smooth long pull as Eliott lets himself surge forward and Lucas lets out a long low groan, he’s being filled, filled up with sensation and heat and the taste of strawberries and the sound of emerald and the smell of wet earth and maybe there’s something in this synaesthesia thing after all –

He throws his head back and lets his sweating palms slide down over Eliott’s smooth back and over to cup his ass, feeling his boyfriend groan and shudder as he bottoms out, the way Eliott hoists himself up onto his elbows and his movements quicken, his buttocks tightening and tensing as he rocks himself deeper and deeper inside Lucas. Lucas feels like he’s a knot of molten toffee being pulled and pounded in movements so infinitely sweet that he can do nothing but gasp and clutch feebly at his boyfriend’s sweating shoulders. There’s no sound but the wet _slap-slap_ noise of flesh hitting flesh and the low _uhhs_ that seem knocked out of Eliott at every contact; Lucas closes his eyes and lets the colours of Eliott play around him; blue and cerise and purple, the scent of outdoor woods and sunlight and the feeling of silk and stone –

“Fuck me like one of your French girls,” he manages to murmur out finally with a half-smile, and Eliott shudders and bares his teeth for a moment; raising himself up onto shaky elbows and his hips breaking into a flurry of hard, quick thrusts. Lucas can feel himself rolling with the movement that seems to sear deep inside him and float all the way up to his skull; his own cock ramrod hard against his stomach as Eliott bears down on it for friction, the tip weeping between them with the urgent movement of their bodies as Eliott moves faster and faster –

“Stop, you’re not coming yet. Roll over,” hisses Lucas urgently, shoving at his boyfriend with all his strength. Eliott freezes and flops to the side, sweaty cheek pressed on his, his long back rising and falling with his panting breaths.

“Fuck me from behind –“ Eliott groans into the mattress, but Lucas is already there, pulling at his _mec_ ’s shoulders to heave himself onto his back. They’re both still so wet already that there’s no immediate need for lube; Eliott moans and arches his bottom up and Lucas struggles onto his knees, spreading Eliott’s ass apart and enjoying the uninterrupted view as he takes the plunge, savouring the way the taller boy cries out as he knocks his forehead into the pillow.

“Is that okay – uhhhh,” Lucas’s eyes roll back into his head as Eliott bucks his ass backwards to meet him, feeling his balls slap hard against his boyfriend’s flanks. Involuntarily he grasps Eliott’s hips and shuffles forwards on his knees, fingers squeezing and moulding the flesh as he positions himself. A wave of macho power surges over him for a moment at the sight of Eliott so submissive beneath him – _he’s in control now, he’s on top_ –  and he gives Eliott all he’s got for a few minutes, enjoying driving into him hard as his boyfriend moans and cries, long back arching beneath him, head between his elbows.

“Fuck, you look amazing like this, Jesus fucking Christ –“

Sweat is breaking out on Lucas’s forehead as he lets one hand stroke gently across his boyfriend’s back, entranced at the sight of his cock disappearing into him over and over again. Eliott’s got one hand between his legs, fisting himself frantically with every lunge that Lucas makes, and Lucas feels like a victorious javelin thrower, poised and at the cusp of throwing; he could easily finish in the next few moments and it looks like Eliott could too, but something in him tells him, _not yet, not yet –_

 Pulling out when you’re on the brink of coming is probably the hardest thing he’s ever willingly inflicted on himself, and Eliott whines and tries to grab behind him as he feels Lucas disappearing.

“No, no, no! I’m coming, I’m coming, wait –“

“Come like this,” whispers Lucas, panting, tugging at him until Eliott rolls over. “Sit with me, here.”

Elliot sits up, shaking and sweating all over, and Lucas can’t hold back a chuckle at his boy’s bewilderment. “Wait baby,” he whispers, crawling up into Eliott’s lap, straddling him, arms wound tightly around his neck, suddenly desperate to see his _mec_ ’s face.

He’s not disappointed, Eliott’s hair is mussed-up and sweaty, a red friction burn on his cheek, his pupils blown and sparkling as he angles his mouth up to meet Lucas’s. Lucas presses himself against him, silently begging, and he’s rewarded as Eliott cups his bottom in his hands, spreading his cheeks apart as he lowers him slowly down onto his rigid dick.

Lucas buries his face in his boyfriend’s neck, but to his surprise he takes his man’s girth easier than last time; there’s the initial shock of penetration but after that it’s easier, and he finds himself suddenly gasping as Elliot bounces him in his lap, biceps crackling as he pulls him up and down his shaft until Lucas is getting as deeply and thoroughly fucked as he’s ever been in his life. His legs creep higher and higher until they’re clenched around his _mec’_ s waist whil his sweating forehead presses against Eliott’s. He closes his eyes and breathes his boyfriend in; he’s consumed and surrounded by the smell of stars and the taste of music, the sound of clashing colours and the sense of the universe being twisted round, unravelled and rewritten until it’s in a language he can finally understand.

“Ah mon dieu, I’m coming, I’m coming,” he manages to choke out finally, his head falls back as he feels the churning and tightening in his groin, and Eliott shuddering below him. All the sounds and colours and smells fuse together in his head and cock in one huge explosion as he feels himself contract around Eliott, and start to pulse. From the noise that Eliott’s making and the convulsion of his boyfriend’s thighs he can tell that Eliott is joining him there too, they’re finally, finally coming together –

It’s a little while before Lucas finally comes back to himself. He can’t remember how long they had fucked for or how many positions they’d tried; it’s as if they’d been caught in a force of nature, delighting in driving each other to the brink and then pulling away, changing up the dynamic from fucking to being fucked; both of them alternating from one to the other like electrons colliding around their poles or magnetic forces switching remorselessly between push-and-pull.

Only later, when the room subsides around them and he’s lying curled up on Eliott’s chest, do they finally notice the pulled muscles and the friction burns; the scratches and the aches, and just how fucking _sore_ they both are.

“Putain,” groans Lucas at length, flexing his sore elbow. “Was that – was that how you imagined it in your painting?”

Eliott answers him with a dreamy chuckle and a kiss, hand stroking lightly through Lucas’s extremely messy hair. “I think we’re gonna have to rent a room in _Le Meurice_ and have a rematch in style.”

“You fuck all your French girls like this?” enquires Lucas teasingly, with that half-cocked eyebrow that Eliott adores _so_ much. For once, after _that_ , he doesn’t feel one tiny bit insecure about the fact that Eliott likes girls too.

“I’ve never fucked anyone, boy or girl, like that,” sighs Eliott. “Noone but you has ever made me feel like this before.”

***

The painting, when it’s finished, hangs on their kitchen wall and is much admired by everybody. It’s a golden haze of colours with a big black zig-zag rocketing through it from left to right, and a big splash of foggy white in the middle of it.

“What is it, Eliott?” asks Yann, cocking his head from side to side as he surveys the canvas one evening. “I thought Lucas said you were going to paint his portrait.”

“It _is_ Lucas’s portrait,” grins Eliott, pulling Lucas to him and delivering a big, sloppy, secretive kiss to the side of his head that has Lucas blushing frantically. “It’s how I see him, at least.”

 

**THE END**


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